"'Tis a chest," said Sam.
"Full of gold, I'll warrant it!" cried Wolfert, clasping his hands
with rapture.
Scarcely had he uttered the words when a sound from above caught
his ear. He cast up his eyes, and lo! by the expiring light of the
fire he beheld, just over the disk of the rock, what appeared to be
the grim visage of the drowned buccaneer, grinning hideously down
upon him.
Wolfert gave a loud cry and let fall the lantern. His panic
communicated itself to his companions. The negro leaped out of the
hole, the doctor dropped his book and basket, and began to pray in
German. All was horror and confusion. The fire was scattered
about, the lantern extinguished. In their hurry-scurry[1] they ran
against and confounded one another. They fancied a legion of
hobgoblins let loose upon them, and that they saw, by the fitful
gleams of the scattered embers, strange figures, in red caps,
gibbering and ramping around them. The doctor ran one way, the
negro another, and Wolfert made for the water side. As he plunged
struggling onward through brush and brake, he heard the tread of
some one in pursuit.
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